When in Rome
by Taliya
Summary: When Kuroba Kaito was seven, his best friend and neighbor, Nakamori Aoko, was kidnapped and disappeared from his life without a trace. Ten years later, Phantom Thief 1412 encounters the head of the I Fortunati Clan on a heist in Italy. Written for Poirot Café's 6-8k Writing Competition #4: Cheese.


Detective Conan and Magic Kaito characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Aoyama Gōshō.

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Warnings: Violence, language, questionable morals

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When in Rome

By Taliya

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Word Count: 6731

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"Bakaito! Get back here!"

The addressed seven-year-old boy grinned widely as he dodged a mop wielded by his best friend of three years. He blew a raspberry at her, purposely goading the girl to greater heights of annoyance. "You're too slow, Ahoko!" he crowed, ducking as the roped end of the cleaning device swung harmlessly over his head with a gleeful giggle.

The equally aged seven-year-old girl paused in her attack, studying her opponent with keen cobalt eyes. With a head of wild, chocolate-colored hair, the female was an energetic, spunky little spitfire. The daughter of a policeman, she had developed a very strict and rather rigid sense of right and wrong. In this particular instance, her best friend of two years had seen something that she had not wanted him to see: a picture she had doodled of herself and her friend with a large red heart between them. It was meant to be a secret from him—he was not supposed to know that she had developed a crush on him! She swiped the mop once more at him, the cleaning implement unwieldy due to its size, but despite her wild swinging, she managed to keep from toppling over. "You weren't supposed to see that!"

"It was just a dumb picture!" he complained, sticking his tongue out as he jumped over her next strike. The two ran around the playground, the boy taunting his best friend while she did her absolute best to give him a concussion.

* * *

"Is that her?" a gruff voice asked in Italian. A picture of the girl's smiling yearbook was held out for comparison as he watched the two children chase about the playground. "Who's the brat?"

"That's definitely her—Aoko Nakamori. The kid is Kaito Kuroba, a classmate and friend," replied his companion in the same tongue. "Do we…?"

A nod. "We must. The clan needs its heiress back."

* * *

The two paused in their game of cat and mouse as a pair of distinctly Western men approached them. The boy, Kaito, instinctively moved into a protective position while the girl, Aoko, shuffled nervously behind him. "Who are you?" he asked, and his tone held more than a hint of bravado in it.

"No one you need to be concerned about, boy," one man replied in heavily accented Japanese. He was a slender man with tanned skin, olive green eyes, and dark hair tied in a low ponytail. His companion was of stockier build, with a lighter overall complexion and close-cropped hair. Both of them wore all black—crisp pinstriped suits with fedoras.

"Kaito," Aoko whimpered from behind, "Aoko's scared…"

The blond-haired, blue-eyed man smirked. "There's nothing to be afraid of. We're not exactly… bad guys. We're family."

The two children's brows crinkled in confusion. "Family?" Aoko asked.

The leaner man spoke. "Yes," he hissed, and swift as a striking snake, he reached out and grabbed Aoko by her shirt and yanked her from behind Kaito. "Family."

"LET HER GO!" Kaito shrieked, leaping forwards to reach his now muffled but screaming friend, but a sharp jerk on the back of his shirt neatly choked him.

He barely had a chance to glance backwards at his captor before the burly blond sneered, "Lights out," and brought a meaty fist down on his temple.

* * *

" _Aoko!"_

 _The summer sun was warm on their backs as they neared the entrance to Tropical Land. Kaito ran up to her, all smiles and excitement. "Kaito!"_

 _Behind the two five-year-old children came their parents: the recently widowed Nakamori Ginzo, Aoko's father, and Kuroba Touichi and Chikage, Kaito's parents. "You two move fast," Touichi remarked with a smile._

 _Chikage pulled out a camera. "Come on, Kaito, Aoko-chan, let's get a picture before we go in. Move closer together and say 'Cheese!'"_

" _Cheeeeeese!" the two said, hamming it up as the shutter clicked and the film whirred._

" _Okay let's go, let's go!" Kaito yelled as he ran towards the ticketing barrier._

" _Ah, Kaito, wait up!" Aoko called, sprinting after her new best friend._

An alarm buzzed, breaking his mind away from the realm of dreams. A seventeen-year-old Kuroba Kaito yawned and stretched, groggily flapping his hand about to find and disable his alarm. Clock quieted, he groaned as he sat up, rubbing his face. _That memory again?_

Remembering the sweet smile of his childhood best friend had long since failed to bring the deep pain it had once used to. The passage of a decade of time had dulled the pain, leaving wistfully fond remembrance behind. As he got up to prepare for another week of school, he idly wondered, _How different would things be if she were here?_

A full ten years ago, Nakamori Aoko, daughter of Division Two Inspector Nakamori Ginzo, had disappeared. According to Kaito, she had been kidnapped. When Ginzo had filed a missing persons report, records from the national registry found no identification number for one Aoko Nakamori. It was as though she had never existed.

The policeman had taken her disappearance hard. Kaito and his parents, Kuroba Touichi and Chikage, had done their utmost best to support their friend and neighbor as he coped with the loss of his daughter on top of the loss of his wife, who died during a complicated childbirth. And then came the death of Kuroba Touichi a year later, leaving Kaito and Chikage devastated.

The series of losses so close to each other in Kaito's life had shaped him as he had grown, producing a young man who, despite his outward class clown appearances, was in fact a responsible, thoughtful soul. Chikage, unable to cope with the loss of her husband, had fled to travel the world, leaving Kaito in Ginzo's care. Considering how the policeman had taken to drinking to cope, it ended up with Kaito taking care of Ginzo, rather than the other way around. Afternoons after school, Kaito could often be found preparing dinner for Ginzo and himself. It had become the established routine between the two, and there were few secrets between them.

Yet when Kaito turned sixteen, he discovered the Kaitou KID workshop in the basement of his house. He had seen the news of Kaitou KID's return and the heist that was to occur that night, and though he wondered how KID and his father, Touichi, would have compared, he had come home to drop off his book bag and do a little homework before he headed over to Ginzo's house to prepare dinner.

The day started as normally as ever. Kaito had gone to school, pulled a few minor pranks, and had come home. The school had been abuzz with talk of Kaitou KID's return, and Kaito, as the son of Kuroba Touichi and the resident magician, had been asked multiple times whether or not he believed KID was as good a magician as his father. Kaito had hotly replied that there was no magician better than his father each time he had been asked before storming away. The entire school soon learned not to ask, as nobody wanted to tempt fate by angering the normally cheerful mischief-maker.

Kaito had come home emotionally worn and grumpy. He had dropped his book bag, stopped before the portrait of his father, and gazed into the painted eyes with wistful longing. "I wish you were still here, Oyaji," he whispered as he reached a hand out to trace the brushed curve of Kuroba Touichi's face. The slight pressure tripped the lock behind the picture, and Kaito tumbled through the frame with a yelp—and that was how he discovered that his father had, once upon a time, very likely been the very thief that his classmates had discussed that day.

He had taken up the costume, and than very night, when he confronted the other person masquerading about as Kaitou KID, obtained a confession that his father had indeed been the legendary phantom thief. It was then that he had decided to continue his father's mission and legacy—even if it meant infuriating the blazes out of his adoptive father, Nakamori Ginzo. He had played the game of cat and mouse with the inspector ever since—and now they were a year in.

Kaito hummed as he worked out a heist note in Italian, as his next target was going to be held in Rome, Italy. Kaitou KID was an _international_ thief, and he had heard from his classmates that Italy had wonderful weather this time of year. Luckily for him, Golden Week was several weeks away, and he was planning on "visiting his mother in Paris" for the duration of the holiday so that Nakamori would not need to worry about him. The man who had been the fake KID, Jii Konosuke, had actually turned out to be Touichi's former assistant, and the man would be making the trip to Europe with him to aid in his first international venture. He grinned as he eyed a picture of a deep indigo, marquis-cut forty-carat iolite called the Sogno di Nettuno. The iolite was on display in the Universita di Roma "Sapienza"'s Museo di Mineralogia, currently on loan from a private collector, and therefore available for viewing for a limited amount of time.

Kaito grinned in anticipation. It would be the first time in years that he had traveled overseas, and he planned on making the most of it.

* * *

A plate of beautifully presented Caprese salad was placed in front of her, the creamy white slices of fresh buffalo mozzarella and luscious red cuore di bue tomatoes contrasting with the verdant green leaves of fresh basil and oregano, which had been drizzled over with extra virgin olive oil and sprinkled with fresh ground pepper. She picked up her fork and began to eat as her attendant stood by her side at the ready. "Vincenzo," she said in Italian with forced calm as she tapped her fork against the edge of the plate, "If you twitch at another passersby headed for the restroom I _will_ have you removed from your station."

The older man frowned, "But Il Capo, I can't—"

"They are likely _not threats_ ," she emphasized through gritted teeth. "Get any twitchier and you might accidentally shoot someone."

Vincenzo nodded, chastised. "My apologies, Il Capo."

She sighed. "How many times have I told you to call me by name? All of the others have gotten used to it except you. It's _Aoko_. A-o-ko."

"It's just—" Vincenzo sputtered, "—impolite…"

Aoko snarled and snapped, "Switch out with Niccolo, please," tossing down her fork in irritation at Vincenzo's continued stuffiness.

"Y-Yes, Il Ca—A-Aoko," he murmured, and shuffled off to find his replacement.

Aoko waited several moments with her eyes glued to the entrance to her private dining area like a hawk, hands gripping the armrests of her chair tensely. They relaxed upon hearing a greeting filtering down the hallway, "Hey Big Cheese!"

She chuckled at his appellation for her and greeted back, "Hi there, Big Idiot!" She resumed eating her salad, Niccolo's presence a comforting reminder of, oddly enough, her childhood. His cheery, mischievous personality reminded her of her childhood best friend, Kuroba Kaito. Despite the fact that all of the men who had become her bodyguards were several years older than her, seventeen-year-old Aoko Alinari, formerly Nakamori Aoko, was more than capable of defending herself.

Taken from her native Japan at the age of seven, she had unknowingly become the head of the I Fortunati Clan when her maternal uncle died with no children. His will stated that the head of the Clan go to blood, and as Aoko's mother had died in childbirth, the seat had gone to her instead. And so she had been smuggled into Italy despite her citizenship status via her mother, and her existence in Japan erased. She had been brought up within the Clan, had learned the politics of the Mafia, and by age fifteen she was the one that other clans negotiated with.

Despite the fact that she was well versed in various forms of combat and self defense, Aoko refused to take a life. The morals instilled within her from a young age by her policeman father, Nakamori Ginzo, had persisted despite her tutors' attempts to train her otherwise. They had even tried to force her hand in live situations, though she had remained steadfast in her ethics.

 _A thoroughly bloodied member of the rival Il Solano Clan lay curled on the floor before her, gagged and bound. His breathing was labored; it sounded as though he had several broken ribs. Iacopo, one of her instructors, kicked the man in the stomach when he had sent her a dark scowl._

" _He is of little further use to us," Iacopo said. Producing a handgun, he held it out to her. "Put that dog out of his misery, Il Capo."_

 _Aoko was more than a little angry at this particular tactic being used to force her hand. With a low snarl, she hissed, "I have told you a_ thousand _times before, I am perfectly willing to beat the living piss out of someone, but I will_ not _be the one the pull the trigger!"_

 _Adelaide, another of her instructors, sighed. "If you don't, Boss, the other clan heads will think you weak and will be more likely to try to fight against us."_

 _Aoko acknowledged the logic in her teacher's words, but she could not get herself to act. "Then let them think I am weak," she snapped mulishly as she shoved the proffered firearm away. "At least_ I _know the true value of a life, however miserable it may be._ No one _deserves the right to play God." She stood and walked over to her clan's captive. "You're positive you've extracted all the information you need out of him?" At her subordinates' nods, she huffed. "Release him."_

 _When those present in the meeting room rather vehemently and vocally protested, she glared at them and snarled, "He will_ not _die by my hand. If his clan chooses to punish him for his failure—" and here her eyes flicked dispassionately down to the now cowering bound man, "—then that is their business, not mine."_

She snapped herself out of that particular flashback from nearly a year ago and resumed eating her salad. The primo and secondo followed, and Aoko ate quietly by herself as Niccolo hummed by the doorway, smiling and waving at the other patrons of the restaurant. Her thoughts returned to the boy, Kuroba Kaito, who had befriended her so many years ago. She wondered how he was doing, how her father and his parents were, and how he would react if he knew what had become of her. She snorted softly to herself. After next year—when she turned eighteen—she would be seen as a legal adult in the eyes of the law. And then—then, she would be able to return to her homeland, to visit her father, to see her friend—without needing the consent of her caretakers.

 _Despite the fact that I Fortunati is Aoko's family,_ she thought, and her internal monologues were always in her native Japanese, _Tou-san, Kaito, Chikage-san, and Touichi-san are Aoko's family too—and Aoko misses you all. And hopefully Aoko will see you all soon… soon!_

* * *

Aoko had always admired the Sogno di Nettuno. An avid collector of minerals and gems, she had kept her eye on the gem for years upon first spotting it in the museum eight years ago. She had grown a rather extensive private collection over the years; it was one of the few hobbies she allowed herself, as most of her time had been spent training up to take the position of head of the clan. She had been thinking up ways of acquiring the stone for herself when the infamous Phantom Thief 1412 sent a heist notice to the university. The note had been published two days ago in _La Repubblica_ :

 _The dichroite Sea God slumbers beneath Diana's wide gaze  
At the sixth hour in the University of the Capital of the World,  
I will claim my prize._

 _-Kaitou KID_

She smirked as she read the notice once more on her phone. She had always had a dislike for this particular phantom thief, and—well, why not get rid of that residual nuisance from her childhood since she was able to? And so here she was, standing on the rooftop of the museum with her men and women stationed on various neighboring buildings, each with a clear shot. A radio microphone was strapped to a wrist, and a flick of a finger and a word was all that was needed to give the command to shoot the thief through the head. As long as she was not the one personally to pull the trigger…

There was a light breeze tonight, one that tugged at her eternally untamable hair with all the warmth of a typical balmy Italian evening. She leaned against the mildewing concrete of the wall, waiting and biding her time. The door to the roof creaked open, and a lithe figure in white tumbled out with a chuckle.

 _Time to collect Aoko's prize,_ she thought with vicious glee as she watched him make his night's prize appear with a deft flick of his hand.

"You're a little late, Phantom Thief 1412," she announced, stepping out of her darkened corner. Her all-black ensemble had helped her blend in and therefore had kept her from the thief's immediate observation.

KID started in surprise. "I hadn't realized I was on a timetable," he answered in lightly accented Italian, and Aoko had to give him props for his linguistic agility. It had taken her years to master Italian. "My apologies for my rudeness, signorina."

She sighed with an amused grin. "Have you had a chance to look at it yet?" she asked, ignoring the thief's apology. Her eyes were firmly glued to the magician's loot for the evening. She itched to call in the order to hit, but forced herself to draw this out—savor the moment.

"Eh?" the thief sounded, seemingly caught wrong-footed.

"The Sogno di Nettuno," she said with an air of forced patience—and it was not far off from the truth. "Have you had a chance to look at it under the full moon?"

KID blinked, eying her quizzically. "Not yet—I was a bit occupied with being pursued."

Aoko's grin sharpened hungrily. "Please do so now. I would like it back, if you don't mind." Her tone was assuredly a demand as she held out an open, expectant hand for the gem.

"Back?" the magician queried, confusion in his tone as he clutched the jewel protectively. "Was it ever yours to begin with?"

She snorted derisively. "Does it matter? At some point I had planned on acquiring it one way or another. This way I don't have to have one of my men steal it for me since you did it instead."

The phantom thief took a step backwards. "I'm afraid I cannot give it to you."

The sharp smile slid off her face as she pulled out a handgun to bluff with. Years of playing poker with Iacopo, Niccolo, and Adelaide had honed her ability to keep an absolutely straight face under any circumstance. "I don't believe I asked a question," she said with achingly artificial sweetness. "But perhaps if I ask nicely you'll comply. Give it to me or I will kill you." She tacked on a clearly false, cheesy smile to the last statement.

Kaitou KID laughed in disbelief. "That still was not a question, signorina," he replied, taking another step back.

Aoko countered by matching him step for step. "Fine," she acceded. "I'll ask in a language you understand." Switching into her native but rusty Japanese, she demanded, "Give it to Aoko or Aoko will slaughter those you hold dear."

The thief froze, clearly caught off guard. "You—you speak Japanese?" he answered in kind, and Aoko's ears savored hearing the familiar sounds of her mother language. KID really did have a beautiful voice—if this was indeed his true voice. It was familiar, and it—oddly enough, reminded her of Kaito.

Despite her inner glee, she outwardly scowled at the thief. "Would Aoko be speaking Japanese if Aoko didn't know how?" she snapped. Lack of practice over the years had not done Aoko the favor of growing out of her habit of referring to herself in the third person, and so she retained that particular speech trait.

"My apologies," KID replied with a shallow but grand bow. "I simply was not expecting to hear a familiar tongue in a foreign place. But more to the point, how would you find me, ojou— _Aoko_ -san?" There was utter shock in the magician's voice at the very last.

She sighed. "Amateur," she grumped. Taking advantage of his apparently stunned state, the young woman marched up to the thief, yanked out a knife, and stabbed him roughly in the arm in rapid succession. KID recoiled instantly, somehow teleporting several meters away. Aoko huffed and displayed the bloody weapon. "Now Aoko has DNA." She approached the now wary thief, putting the blade and gun away as she did so. "But—" and here she swiped the gem from KID's flabbergasted grasp "—there's currently no need, given that Aoko now has what Aoko wants. Thank you for your cooperation, Kaitou KID." She spun on her heel and made her way for the door, bringing her wrist to her lips as she did so.

" _Aoko…?"_ The sheer tentative but hopeful longing in that voice—which was tense with pain—speaking her name made her pause with her arm just before her lips.

She dropped her arm and turned to face the thief. "That _is_ Aoko's name," she answered lackadaisically, and an eyebrow rose in mild interest.

"Aoko as in… _Nakamori… Aoko…_?" the thief breathed quietly, staring her in the eyes as he clutched his reddening arm.

Instantly her bloodied knife materialized in her hands. "How do you know Aoko?" she hissed quietly, her guard up and her eyes full of caution.

"I—Aoko, I—" The sound of the police making their way up to the roof interrupted him, so he swiftly pulled a small piece of paper and a pen from _somewhere_ , hastily scribbled something on it, and tossed it at her. "Meet me there in an hour," he said with quiet desperation in his voice before he took a running leap off the roof and soared away on white wings.

Aoko quickly stuffed the small wad of paper into a pocket, attached herself to a zip line, and glided down the rope to freedom, a quick but forceful tug dislodging the line once she had safely landed. She brought the microphone to her lips and said softly, "Home," before making her way to the awaiting limousine. Niccolo, her driver for the evening, greeted her with a cheery smile as she slid into the vehicle. The ride home was quiet as she studied the Sogno di Nettuno in one gloved hand, though she dared not pull out KID's note. Not yet. The gem glittered under the weak lighting of the car's interior, yet she could not fully appreciate the gem's beauty—no, her mind was full of questions regarding the phantom thief and his rather bizarre behavior.

They pulled into the family villa and Aoko swiftly retreated to her room to think, her fingers absently flipping the jewel and sending multitudes of scattered reflections on her walls and ceiling. KID had not acted in the way she had expected. Initially, yes, as he was known to be an absolute charmer, but once she had revealed her name—however inadvertently—his demeanor had seemingly flipped from the suave, charismatic schmoozer to an insecure, awkward… teenager?

Dropping into a cozy leather recliner in a corner of her room, she finally fished out the small ball of paper from her pocket and read the single, handwritten line of Italian.

 _Sant'Eustachio Il Caffè_

Staring at the note clasped in her fingers, she contemplated what to do next as she rolled the iolite in her other hand. Would it be a trap? Kaitou KID was not known to pull stunts after his heists were officially over, and he had historically never harmed someone if he could help it. A glance at her watch revealed that it was now thirty-eight minutes past midnight. It would take twelve minutes to get to the café. She slipped both paper and jewel into her pocket as she stepped out of her room.

"I'm headed out for a ride," she announced to Vincenzo, who had been hovering by her door as her bodyguard for the evening. "Alone," she added before the man could protest, and swept down the hallway towards the garage. She wondered, as she pulled on her helmet and revved up the engine of her bike, how exactly she would recognize someone who was quite well known to be a world-class disguise artist.

* * *

He was nervous. It had been _years_ since Kuroba Kaito had had an attack of nerves. He sat at one of the small tables outside in a light disguise of a Tokyo Yumiuri Giants baseball cap and a pair of sleek, half-rimmed glasses. He had returned to his hotel immediately after the heist and had disinfected and bandaged the wound that he had sustained. Luckily for him, the blade had been comparatively small, so the wound was not too deep. Still, his arm was hidden beneath a light jacket to ward off the evening's slight chill.

 _This is_ such _a bad idea_ , Kaito thought. _It's more than a little half baked, and—and—what am I going to say to her?! "Hello, I'm Kuroba Kaito, alias Kaitou Kid! You know, that thief that you absolutely_ hated _when we were younger?"_ The thief groaned and thumped his head on the table, running agitated fingers through his hair. His Poker Face had decided a trip to Italy was not what it wanted, and thus had retreated to the back of his mind. _What on_ earth _was I thinking?! Oh, right… I_ wasn't _. Oh, this is_ such _a bad idea…_

Kaito righted himself and pulled out a deck of cards to fiddle with as he kept an eye on the time. The digital clock on his phone read 23:58. The place closed at one-thirty since it was Friday night—now Saturday morning. His eyes constant watched the slow but steady foot traffic, keeping a sharp eye out for a familiar but matured face from his childhood. He watched as a young woman pulled her Ducati into a space and shut off the engine. Tugging the helmet off, she shook out a long mane of black hair before locking her bike up and making her way towards the café.

Kaito's breath unconsciously caught in his chest. It was Aoko, all right—it was _his_ Aoko from his childhood. She was different—enough that it had taken it an embarrassingly long time and her name to recognize her. She had matured, blossomed—changed from a gangly little spitfire and transformed into a beautifully elegant sophisticate. That she was dressed from head to toe in black leather accented with nacreous pearls only emphasized the flawlessness of her skin, the luminescence of her blue eyes. But now, at the mere thought of meeting her in the flesh with her walking ever closer, his hands shook badly enough that he accidentally sprayed his deck all over the place mid-shuffle.

"Ah, _shit_ ," he swore under his breath as he slid off his seat to pick up his scattered cards.

"Here."

Kaito glanced at the hand that offered several cards. "Thanks," he murmured, taking the cards as he looked up at the Good Samaritan and froze. Nakamori Aoko smiled gently back at him before she stood up and walked into the shop before Kaito had a chance to collect his scattered wits and say something. He swiftly collected the rest of his cards and stumbled into the shop after her, yanking his Poker Face back on forcefully. Aoko was glancing around with seeming idle interest, eyes cataloguing the faces of customer and barista alike. Kaito stepped up to the counter and ordered a monachella and a cheese and charcuterie board before turning and asking her, "If I may steal a bit of your time, what would you like to order, signorina?"

Aoko glanced at him, her gaze turning sharp and assessing and— _dangerous_. Kaito swallowed a shudder of fear that prickled down his spine as he smiled charmingly and gestured to the waiting barista. She stepped up to the bar and murmured, "Cappuccino, please," before glancing at him from the corner of her eye and retreating to the table that he had originally sat at. Kaito paid and waited while the drinks were made, all the while nervously shifting from foot to foot. He finally retrieved the drinks and carefully set them down on the table surface.

"Thank you," Aoko replied, this time in Japanese.

"You're welcome," he easily answered back. They each too a sip of their beverages before Kaito prompted, "I'm sure you have questions…"

Aoko set her mug down, her expression serious and borderline hostile. "How do you know Aoko's name?"

Kaito raised his hands up, palms forward and fingers splayed to show he had nothing to hide. His expression was cautious, yet hopeful. "I know you from childhood," he ventured. "You're Nakamori Ginzo-san's daughter, right?"

The young woman's breath caught and she unexpectedly leaned over the table. "Do you talk to him? How is Tou-san?" she asked, worried urgency in her voice. The façade of cool, collected, and dangerous had shattered in an instant the moment he had mentioned the policeman's name.

The magician reared back in surprise at her outburst, though he smiled softly upon seeing the concern in her eyes. "He's fine. He's an inspector now, and he's like a father to me." As Aoko sat back, stunned, Kaito grinned and said, "I'm Kuroba Kaito. Nice to meet you." He held up an empty hand and produced a rose for her to take.

Aoko's eyes were wide with astonishment and a hundred other nameless emotions as she stared at him. "K—Kaito…?" she breathed, ignoring the rose in favor of looking at him.

The two of them were silent and Kaito placed the flower on the table edge as a waiter brought out a small cheese and charcuterie board covered with thin slices of prosciutto, sopressata, and mortadella, wedges of pecorino toscano, Parmigiano-Reggiano, and a pile of mozzarella di bufala campana balls. Pita chips, bunches of grapes, pickled olives, and sliced apples were mixed into the presentation of the board, along with scattered dried fruit and nuts.

After thanking the waiter, Kaito used his other hand to take off the cap and glasses, fully exposing his facial features to her. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Aoko?"

"Wha—what are you doing here?" she whispered, as though unable to believe that her childhood friend was truly before her and not just a figment of her imagination.

"I'm here because of Kaitou KID. I am his biggest fan, after all," he said easily, though he wondered if she still held on to her hatred for the phantom thief.

The mention of KID caused the smile on Aoko's face to melt away, and Kaito felt a stone settle in his stomach. "Oh yes," she murmured darkly, and Kaito felt his pulse spike in panic. "Is Aoko to understand that not only are you Kaitou KID's biggest fan, but that you _are_ the thief himself?" There was a distinctly menacing gleam in her eyes as she slowly leaned forwards.

"A-Aoko…" he stuttered, hands once again up in appeasement, "I—I can explain…"

"Oh please do," she purred ominously, "Because Aoko's somewhat at a loss as to why there are _two_ criminals in the family, as opposed to just _one_."

Kaito frowned. "Wait, _you're_ a criminal too? But—"

Aoko folded her arms over her chest. " _Aoko_ is part of the mafia—technically speaking, Aoko's the head of an Italian mafia clan."

"You're joking," Kaito deadpanned, unable to believe that his childhood friend was legitimately part of an organized criminal syndicate. When Aoko failed to crack a smile, he gaped. "S-Seriously?!"

"Aoko was the hereditary heir on Aoko's mother's side," she explained succinctly. "The seat of the head can only be passed on to blood, and Aoko's only uncle had no children of his own. So they took Aoko and trained Aoko to be the head of the I Fortunati Clan." She stared at him. "So what's your story?"

Suddenly confronted with having to retell his own family history, Kaito sucked in a deep breath for a moment and exhaled to steady his still quivering nerves. "The story of Kaitou KID actually began…" As they worked their way through the various items on the board while taking sips of their slowly cooling coffee-based drinks, Kaito's story slowly, painfully unfolded. "… and so that's why there is now a Kaitou KID the Second searching for Pandora."

Aoko had not once interrupted Kaito's narrative, and even now she gazed ahead with depressed contemplation. They had finished eating and had wandered into Parco Adriano after crossing Ponte Umberto I. The park bench they sat at was illuminated by a single streetlight, and the two of them leaned on each other. "So… Tou-san chases after you because he almost literally has nothing else besides you. Chikage-oba-san is off traveling and Touichi-oji-san is dead…" she murmured, ducking her head. Kaito saw in the dim lighting of the park how Aoko's hands had clenched into fists in her jacket pockets. _"And Aoko wasn't there…"_

The phrase was said so quietly Kaito almost believed he had not heard it. "I—did you say something, Aoko?"

" _Aoko wasn't there,"_ she repeated, her voice shaking with blossoming grief. "And you had to suffer alone! Aoko—Aoko…!" Her breath hitched, and Kaito felt panic erupt in his chest.

"Ah ah ah! Aoko, don't cry!" he burst out, arms flailing at the sight of the first drop that slid down her cheek. "You didn't know what had happened!"

She turned furious blue eyes swimming with tears upon him. "Just because Aoko didn't know doesn't mean _anything_!" she snapped. "Aoko wasn't there in your time of need! Aoko wasn't there to help you!"

Kaito backed up as Aoko advanced upon him. "It happened a long time ago! Ginzo-oji-san and I were able to help each other through it! He does fine as long as I nag him to not smoke and drink so much. But…" Kaito reached up as if to brush her cheek but stopped. Sorrow radiated from his voice when he said, "There isn't a day that goes by when he doesn't mention you."

Aoko's eyes were sorrowful. "Aoko misses him." She stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around Kaito's midsection. "Aoko's missed you too, Kaito," she whispered.

His arms immediately wrapped around her smaller frame, and he struggled to keep from crying himself. "Me too, Aoko. Me too."

They released each other but remained sitting side by side, savoring the fact that they had been fortuitously reunited. "Who are They?" Aoko finally asked, her voice muffled by the fabric of Kaito's jacket.

"Hm?" Kaito was too absorbed in just enjoying the fact that Aoko was _here_ to think too hard about her question.

"The people that killed Touichi-oji-san. Who are They?"

Kaito blinked, his brain finally processing the question. "Why do you want to know?"

Aoko lifted her head from his shoulder to turn a hard stare at him. "Because I want to help you find and expose Them," she said, fierce determination in her tone. It brought back so many memories that for a moment Kaito could not breathe—and he felt the onset of tears prickling in his sinuses. His jaw trembled as even his impenetrable Poker Face was overcome by the strength of his emotions—both from her offer to help and the reminder that his father had been murdered. "Kaito?" Aoko exclaimed, suddenly anxious at the appearance of tears from her friend.

The magician chuckled sardonically. "Sorry. But it's just been so long since I've heard that tone of voice from you…" He wiped away the beads that dotted his lashes. He shot a watery grin at her. "You definitely got that from Ginzo-oji-san," he remarked.

"Speaking of," she murmured thoughtfully, "Do you think you could give him a message from Aoko?"

Kaito was silent for a while before he replied thickly, "Please don't ask that of me."

"Why not?!" she demanded, her temper flaring. She grabbed him by his jacket lapels and forced him to face her. "Why can Aoko not send word that Aoko misses him?!"

"What would that do, Aoko?" Kaito shot back, his expression one of twisted remorse and guilt. "What do you think that would do to him? Think about it!" He turned his head away so that he did not have to stare into her eyes. "I told him that I was spending Golden Week in Paris with Kaa-san! If you send word to him that you are alive, do you not think that he would upend all of Rome to find you? And how would I explain that I was in Rome instead of Paris?"

"But—"

"The legal age of adulthood here is eighteen, right?" Kaito asked urgently. At Aoko's nod, he pressed on. "Wait a year and then come back. As it stands, there is no proof that a Nakamori Aoko has ever lived in Japan. Ginzo-oji-san would have no legal footing to regain custody of you—not unless you submit to DNA testing." Seeing as how his friend was utterly speechless, Kaito continued, softer now. "And I don't think DNA testing would be the best for you either. If you're the head of a clan that's known to the Italian police, then I don't want the Japanese police to be able to trace you either."

She gazed at him. "Like you, right?"

Kaito sighed, then laughed at the irony. "You're not on the wanted list yet, are you?"

"Not yet," she admitted. "Though if it's to help you find Touich-oji-san's murderers, then Aoko would be more than willing to join that list."

"You can't," Kaito argued heatedly. "I won't let you. You can't do that to your father!" Aoko opened her mouth to argue, but paused. Kaito could sense the moment that she relented. "Please don't do that to him."

Aoko sighed and leaned heavily against him. "Fine. But— _please_ —let Aoko help you. If nothing else, then at least allow Aoko to utilize the resources Aoko has at Aoko's disposal to help you find Them."

Kaito sighed this time but grinned ruefully. "You're not going to let up on this point, are you?"

"Not at all," Aoko hummed. "If Aoko have to give up something, then so should Kaito."

"Fair enough," Kaito acceded. There was a hesitant pause before he asked, "Do you… do you still hate Kaitou KID?"

Aoko was silent for a long while. "No," she finally admitted. "Knowing what Aoko does now, Aoko cannot hate him." She gazed at her friend. "Not since Aoko knows what goal KID is trying to accomplish."

* * *

"Aoko'll miss you, Bakaito," Aoko said as she hugged Kaito.

The two of them stood before the security gates inside Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport. Kaito had his two carryon bags with him—a computer bag containing his laptop and other electronics, and a rolling suitcase with his clothing and toiletries. "I'll miss you too, Ahoko."

"Next year," she promised. "Next year Aoko will find you. Just—stay alive until then, you hear me?"

Kaito grinned. "Of course. Here." He flipped her hand open and deposited a KID monocle in her palm.

Aoko stared, stunned, at the piece of the phantom thief's iconic costume. "Kaito—"

"I expect to get it back when I see you next," Kaito said.

Aoko smiled back. "Aoko wouldn't miss it for the world. And here." She slid the Sogno di Nettuno into his palm.

"A—Aoko…?" Kaito breathed in shock.

She smirked. "KID always returns what he steals, right?"

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, so the beginning of the proverb doesn't quite match up with the story, but it makes one hell of a title. Oh, the food in Italy is _so good_ , it makes me drool a bit whenever I think about it—though I have not personally visited Rome myself. Alinari is an Italian surname that means "Son of Alinario", and is a twist of a Germanic given name that is composed of _alian_ "power" and _haria_ "army, warriors". "Il Capo" is Italian for "Boss", and while it is written in masculine form, all of my searching across the web says that the mafia normally doesn't put women at the helm—so "La Capa" doesn't really exist. "Dichroite" is a Greek word for "two-colored rock", Neptune is the Roman God of the Sea, Diana is the Goddess of the Moon, the sixth hour refers to either noon or midnight, as the ancient Roman clock began at either dawn or dusk, and Rome was once referred to as "Caput Mundi", or "Capital of the World". The Tokyo Yomiuri Giants are a baseball team based in the Tokyo Dome. I hope you enjoyed it.

* * *

Completed: 14.08.2016


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